Marny glanced outside at the tendrils of heat wriggling above the lot, then at the checkerboard. “No cheating.”
His opponent winked. “No promises.”
Pushing back his chair, Marny stood and wiped more sweat from his brow, then headed outside.
The car at the pump was a 1990 model Ford Taurus, faded blue with a few rust spots around the wheel wells. Marny had never seen it before. The driver was a large man, thick and broad, who filled out most of the driver’s side of the cabin. He had close-cropped hair and a smooth, round face. Marny had never seen the driver before either.
He approached the car and did his best to be friendly. “Mornin’. Hot one, isn’t it?”
The driver neither smiled nor looked at him. “Fill it up. Regular.”
Marny headed to the rear of the car and noticed a girl in the backseat. A woman, really, looked to be in her early twenties. She sat with her hands in her lap, head slightly bowed. As he passed the rear window she glanced at him, and there was something in her eyes that spoke of sadness and doom. Marny knew that look because he’d seen it in his own eyes every night in the mirror. He smiled, but she quickly averted her gaze, obviously uncomfortable with the small attention he’d shown her.
As he pumped the gas, Marny watched the girl in the backseat, studied the back of her head. She was attractive in a plain way, a natural prettiness that didn’t need any help from cosmetics. Her hair was rich brown and hung loosely around her shoulders. But it was her eyes that held him captive. They were as blue as the summer sky but so sad and empty. Marny wondered what the story was between the man and girl. He was certainly old enough to be her father. He looked stern and calloused, maybe even cruel. Marny felt for her, for her unhappiness, her life.
He caught the man watching him in the side view mirror and looked at the pump’s gauge. It was going on thirty dollars. A second later the nozzle clicked off, and he returned it to the pump. He walked back to the driver’s window. “That’ll be thirty-two.”
While the man fished around in his back pocket for his wallet, Marny glanced at the girl again, but she kept her eyes down, on her hands.
“You folks just visiting?” Marny said, trying to get the man to open up a little.
The man handed Marny two twenties but said nothing.
Marny counted off eight dollars in change and gave it to the driver. “Lots of people come to Maine for vacation. They call it Vacationland. It’s right on our license plate.”
Still nothing. The man took the money and started the car. Before pulling out he nodded at Marny, and there was something in the way he moved his head, the way his eyes sat in their sockets, the way his forehead wrinkled ever so slightly that got Marny shivering despite the heat.
The car rolled away from the pump, asphalt sticking to the tires, and exited the lot. Marny watched until it was nearly out of sight, then turned to head back to the garage and Mr. Condon and the game of checkers. But a crumpled piece of paper on the ground where the Taurus had been parked caught his attention. He picked it up and unfurled it. Written in all capital letters was a message:
HES GOING TO KILL ME
Darkness Follows Page 26